Depth Perception Read Online Free PDF Page A

traces of pain a parent never recovered from. "I don't know how to tell you this, so I'm just going to say it. Brandon's death was not an accident, Mr. Bastille."
    Shock registered in his eyes, and then his mouth pulled back into what she could only describe as a snarl. "What the hell are you talking about?"
    "He didn't drown in that pond alone."
    He came off the column like a puppet jerked to attention by an overzealous puppeteer. "What is this? Some kind of sick fucking joke?"
    "N-no."
    His lips peeled back to reveal straight white teeth that were clenched in fury. "What are you saying?"
    Nat took a quick step back. "I'm sorry I have to tell you this, but your son was murdered."
    "Murdered?" His laugh was a terrible sound, but the look in his eyes was worse. "Where do you get off telling me something like that?"
    "I know this is difficult to hear—"
    "Difficult is not the right word, you crazy bitch. Who the hell are you?"
    "I don't blame you for being angry a-and confused. If you'll just let me ex—"
    "Lady I'm a hell of a lot more than angry and confused. I'm fucking furious and an inch away from showing you exactly what a furious man can do. If you had a brain inside that pretty head of yours, you'd get in your car and get the hell out of my sight before I do something we're both going to regret."
    The temptation to run was strong, but Nat resisted. She was shaking, but in a quiet place deep inside she knew there was nothing this man could do to her that could be any worse than what she had already endured. It was a twisted way to bolster her courage she knew, but it worked.
    "At least hear me out,” she said. "Please. It's important."
    He stared at her as if he wanted to kill her. Nat could see his jaws bunching as he ground his teeth. His hands clenching at his sides. Lips peeling back as if he were a fanged creature about to take a chunk out of her. Black temper burning in his eyes.
    "Who the hell do you think you are, coming here and telling me some bullshit story about my son being murdered?" he ground out.
    "I'm the woman who can help you find the bastard who did it."
     
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    It took several seconds for her words to penetrate the black cloak of fury. Nick had never been a violent man; he'd never touched a woman in any way she didn't want to be touched. But for an interminable moment, he feared he might cross a line and do something he would be sorry for later.
    The death of his son was an open wound on his heart. An agonizing wound that had festered and bled every second of every day he'd been locked away. To have that wound prodded so thoughtlessly enraged him.
    He stared down at her, shocked that the lovely creature looking up at him could say something so utterly brutal and still have such a pretty face. He searched her eyes for the lie he didn't understand, but her expression was as guileless as a child's.
    "Look, Mr. Bastille, I know you don't want to hear this," she said. "I know it's ugly and painful and difficult to understand, but you have to listen to me."
    He was upon her before he could stop himself. His hands on her shoulders, fingers digging into soft flesh. She tried to twist away, but he tightened his grip and muscled her backward.
    “I don't know what kind of twisted game you're playing, lady, but you just fucked with the wrong guy."
    She made a sound when her back hit the wall. "You're hurting me,” she gasped.
     He saw fear in her eyes. He wanted to believe that was satisfying because there was a small, mean part of him that wanted to hurt her. But there was nothing satisfying in the way her face went pale or in the way she winced when he squeezed her shoulders.
    Shamed that he'd touched her in anger, he loosened his grip and gave himself a hard mental shake. "Where the hell do you get off telling me something like that about my son?"
    "I know this is a shock. Just ... listen to me. I have information."
    "You have two seconds to state your case."
    "The man who murdered my son